One Fickle Summer
by Rivala
Summary: Another AU story. In a hot summer of 1931, Watari sends L to the country to improve his health, where he stays with the Yagami family. Look inside for full summary. Contains shota.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **_It's the beginning of the summer 1931, and due to health depletion from stressful studying, Watari, the Dean of Cambridge University, worries about his sixteen year old grandson, L's, health, and sends him to the countryside to live with the family of his good friend Soichiro, the retired Japanese ex-policeman who came to spend the remainder of his life running a grocery shop in the village of Knaresborough, whilst raising his two children Light and Sayu alongside his loyal young wife Sachiko. However, upon arriving, Soichiro's twelve year old child, Light, takes an unhealthy shine to L. _

**Warnings: **_Shota, a bit of OOCness here and there, and it's an AU story._

XXX

Upon being asked, L Lawliet would blame his bent psyche on quite a few people.

There was his mother, Lolita, of course. She was never around, when she was alive. He saw her on the odd occasion, but she was too busy living off L's deceased father's money, and not to mention her dislike of being linked to anything remotely maternal, leading to why L always referred to his mother by her first name. He referred to her as such due to the fact that that was all she was to him – a name that floated around, that popped up every now and then, not a mother. When there is a lack of a father, a child needs a mother, or someone to act as a surrogate mother at least, to have a secure upbringing. The rejection L felt from his mother in his early years constructed his lack of respect for uneducated women, and dislike of women in general.

L had good reason to blame his grandfather, Watari, too, but refrained from doing so. The elderly man had done too much for L, despite all his faults. His grandfather could be blamed due to his lack of action regarding his wild daughter, the one who he almost actively avoided due to 'fear upon death'. But for what little participation Watari took in the raising of Lolita, his only daughter, he made up for it by raising L, by being a stable father figure. He'd been the one to tell L the difference between right and wrong, which would've worked exceptionally well if it had not been for later interference.

Then, lastly, there was Aiber, the 'later interference'. L never forgot his name – it dissolved on his tongue, signs from where it had left a permanent mark on him. The utterance of the name brought up emotion invisible to all but L. There existed disappointment, sadness, but, more powerfully, a bittersweet excitement reminiscent from his preteens. He thrived off the memory, it was all that undid him, all that made the 'him' that lay beyond professionalism. It was why he acted like he did. Yes, it was the distant memory of what could be called a first infatuation, Aiber – that name! – was the accumulation of all awful feelings, he was every sin L had committed, and L was even more so to Aiber. Or at least, L assumed that, seeing as he hadn't seen the man in estimately three years. Yes, three long years.

XXX

Clanking and an orchestra of other mechanical noises bellowed through the train carriage, the train carriage belonging to the Harrestor, one of many grand trains that were currently racing their way through the English countryside. A young man occupied one of the first class stalls, sitting in a strange crouching position whilst leaning his head against the window pane, gazing out at the scenery yet looking at nothing at all. The curtains decorating the window swayed with the movement of the train, singing back and forth with every _chik-chuh-chik _sound from the wheels. The young man looked tired – weary from the journey, or perhaps weary from the thought of the journey continuing beyond this point. Not that it did. Not for very far, anyway.

The teen boy looked to his brown leather satchel that lay against his side from with smoky gray eyes, eyes that stared out from behind an ebony fringe. He stroked at the brass clasp, which felt cold and familiar at his fingertips. He pressed against the button, and it gave a satisfactory click, and slid open upwards to reveal its not-so-treasurable treasure. That pale hand pulled from the satchel a royal blue folder, with golden twine securing its corners, twine which was delicately undone by the black haired young man, in the peculiar way of using his thumb and index finger. He inspected the contents of the folder – a few pieces of paper, and five photographs. He glanced at the paper with blank disinterest, and focused those stony irises upon the pictures that accompanied them. One was a family photo – a stout, yet serious looking middle aged man in a well made suit, a much younger woman of around late twenties, perhaps early thirties, whose graceful smile showed appreciation of her situation. Sitting in front of them was a small girl, with almost porcelain features – upon first sighting her, the strange teen could've been sure it was a large china doll – who sat leaning against the leg of a young boy who, from the young man's calculations, looked about thirteen or younger, he was of a pre-teen appearance. The boy in the picture also had fragile features – perhaps even more so than his sister, if that was their relationship – and had inherited his mother's smile, calm, comforted and content. They were all of Asian race, or had strong Asian descent, evident from their faces.

From what he, the young man, had heard, the man in the photograph, looking like the husband of the family, was a successful foreigner. Upon hearing so, it was immediately thought the success was in opium, until the teenager heard the name. Soichiro Yagami – he was an ex-policeman turned retired national representative for the Japanese, who had come to England to improve foreign relations. It was in this line of work that this man had met his, the young man's, grandfather. And it was through this friendship that was forged that the young man in question had a destination.

The teenager sifted through the photographs that contained individual images of each family member. They weren't much different from the first picture, save for one – the profile picture of the young boy that the young man had paid a far bit of attention to differed to the one depicting him with his family. In this picture, there were the same features, the same fair eyes, but very different facial structure – not from his actual face, but from his facial muscles. It was hard to tell from the quality of the photo, but the smile here looked forced. A forced smile, but – what was this? - deviant eyes. Smart eyes, with hints of a spoiled nature, the eyes of someone that was used to getting what they wanted. It was at this particular photo that the strangely sat teen's face softened, and there was a fleeting smile that crossed his lips, back at the curiously disturbed eyes that sat on the face of the child that glared in the image before him.

It was at that moment all movement in the carriage came to a halt, and the boy hurriedly returned the documents to their folder, placed his satchel over his shoulder and grabbed the heavy black suitcase labelled _L Lawliet _from the rack, departing from the train and onto his stop.

XXX

L was greeted by the very same, stoic face from the photo outside the station. There, Soichiro Yagami himself stood, looking rather like any given gentleman of the early 1930s, or would've been, if it wasn't how obvious his nationality was. Another man, perhaps a decade or two younger, stood by his side, looking nervous. The older man nodded in acknowledgement to L, and beckoned him over as the chauffer took up L's luggage, placing it in the back of the automobile. Soichiro, now used to the customs of the West, greeted L by, to L's displeasure, shaking L's hand in a hurried manner.

"Ah, Mr. Lawliet, you've finally arrived. Look at how you've grown, I bet you don't even remember my face."

"There is a hint of recognition, though I'm afraid the feeling does not stand very long."

"Aha, still just as blunt. You were like that from the moment you could talk. No matter though. This is Touta Matsuda; he is my cousin's nephew, and the assistant to Mr. Aizawa, the man who took over my position as the Japanese representative two years ago. I believe you'll remember him as well as you remember me."

The man stepped forward, also taking L's hand to shake. "It's nice to see you again. Your father taught me well. He was a good man."

"It's good that someone told me, seeing as I myself wouldn't know."

There was a slightly awkward air around Matsuda that spread about the whole group. L's eyes focused on Matsuda, and replied, his eyes not moving from Matsuda once, "... I remember a Matsuda. You were tutored under Aiber, weren't you? Mathematics."

"Aiber...? Ah." Matsuda's eyebrows furrowed, then flew upwards in realisation. "You mean Professor Morello. Thierry Morello. I remember, Aiber, that was what you called him, isn't it? I remember he tutored you too, at the university library, and you would call him that."

Soichiro himself seemed to recognise the name. "Ah yes, didn't he and your grandfather have a fallout?"

L nodded. "There was a bit of... a misunderstanding."

There was a sweet little mystery that L felt in his own words, and he smiled inwardly at the nostalgia. Ah, the lessons in the library. And in the garden. And in the bath. He recalled how sweet it sounded, how only L was allowed to call him by that name. Of course, others could attempt to address Professor Thierry Morello as such, but L had always been told it never sounded right unless coming from L. And Aiber wasn't just a Mathematics tutor. He was a French tutor (_mon ange, mon cher, __tu es à moi)_. And an English tutor too. Well, not exactly. But he had definitely taught L words he'd never heard before.

L decided it was wise to bring himself from any reminiscence before it was too late, and continued speaking. "My grandfather believed that for a tutor, Aiber was exceptionally easy on me. My grandfather asked Aiber to stop teaching me, saying that Aiber spoiled me, and Aiber got into an argument with Grandfather over it, because he felt insulted. He left Cambridge as a result."

Not everything L said had been a lie. It was true, Aiber had spoilt L _terribly_. Aiber would buy him sweets, Aiber would let L choose what area of Maths to focus on. Aiber had let L give him a pet name which only L would use, which would've been seen as fine, though a little uncouth. But L guessed when you're hearing said pet name being repeatedly called out from a bedroom in a manner that could only be called amorous, especially your if it's your grandson's bedroom, it was somewhat suspect. When Watari fired Aiber for, 'being the pinnacle of unprofessionalism,' and, 'acting in a mortifying manner' and finally, 'breaching the innocence' of his grandson, it was the first time in his life that L had ever gotten extremely angry and unspeakably upset in the same day. He refused to talk to his grandfather for two weeks, and it was only when L's mood had dimmed and Watari had enough patience that the elderly man sat down and explained to L that what Aiber did was not something to defend, that L finally forgave him. It had never been a manner of L believing he had fallen in love, no, he was beyond that mind frame. It was a matter that Aiber had given L something addictive to want, something that L wanted to understand and learn about. When L absorbed that Aiber had done it with predatory intentions, that L was being made a fool of, that he resented Aiber. But now, the memories had affected L in a way that could be said to be beyond fixing, and though he resented Aiber for using him, the memories were nearly always looked upon fondly. Aiber may have used him for his own sins, but at least he'd done so lovingly.

"It's a shame," Matsuda sighed, interrupting L's train of thought, "Professor Morello was an excellent Mathematician. I hope his genius was not wasted on a lesser position."

"Indeed," Soichiro agreed, "May whatever ill will caused between Professor Watari and Professor Morello be calmed, and let's hope that he returns to Cambridge one day."

L smiled slyly to himself at their badly aimed good will, and nodded in agreement.

XXX

Admiral butterflies littered the air just above the cat tail weeds, that were scattered in bunches around the large house of the Yagami household. Tiny feet carried their owner after the pretty insects, and tiny hands reached for them out of desire. After five minutes of watching his sister chase Admirals endlessly, Light Yagami decided that it was too hot to move from his position on the veranda, but too boring to keep watching. Therefore, he concluded, he'd not really decided anything at all.

"Light!" The high toned sound of his mother's voice rang out from the kitchen. Like a cat, Light heard his mother's call perfectly well, but decided to not approach it out of his own laziness. If she wanted something, she could come to him. Light pulled at the hem of his beige shorts, the material tightening and rubbing up against his skin due to his cross-legged position leaning against the wooden beam that held the extended roof that was currently shading him. After two attempts to pull them down, he gave up, noting that there was nobody important enough around to see his legs in a shameful light anyway.

His sister hummed a petite tune to herself, or did until she ran too fast after a butterfly and got out of breath. _She may be ten years old_, Light thought, _but she's still five in her mind_.

"Light!"

"Yes?" He called back, not making any move towards the kitchen. He glanced at the hills in the distance, then back to his sister, when he heard the hum of a car approaching, something that cars only tended to do if they were headed this direction. Still not moving, Light watched it approach, curious. He recognised the car itself – it was his father's, the dark green emulsion visible from quite a distance- but he only recognised two of the passengers, not counting the chauffer. The third, he concluded, was evidently the visitor. He couldn't see the passenger himself very well, but he could make out blobs of colour and shape that he wasn't familiar with.

"_Light!_"

"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

XXX

Rays of light bounced off the polished bonnet of the automobile as it steadily pulled up alongside the large, Victorian house. L took in his temporary home as he exited the car, and kept near the two older men as the chauffer took L's luggage from the back of the car and carried it inside, ahead of L. His gaze didn't leave the exterior of the building – he absorbed the architecture, letting it soak in and hoping that the foreigness of it all would fade fast.

They entered through the front door single file, and the smell of Soichiro's home surrounded L. It smelt soft, like an exotic bread, and L followed the head of the household into the kitchen area, where a woman was working at the sink. She raised her head to look at L, and smiled – yes, this was definetely Sachiko Yagami. Her smile was a mirror image of her photo, and she bowed a little at L, obviously taking her time getting used to the still new Western culture that had accepted her.

"My wife, Sachiko," Soichiro beckoned her over, and she stood next to her husband, her stature smaller than her husband's, meaning both of them were relatively smaller than him.

"Her English isn't excellent, but if you speak clearly and don't use those long words you're so fond of, she will understand," Soichiro then turned slightly, nodding towards the window, "The lovely little one out there is Sayu. She speaks good English, when it suits her. She's a little bit sheltered though, I'll admit, and might pester you to play with her if you give her five minutes of your time."

"Of course." L looked about the kitchen, taking in more of his surroundings, and recalled that there was another member of this family not so present. He turned to Soichiro. "Don't you have a son?"

"Raito," said Sachiko in a slightly thick Japanese accent. She was eager to be as involved in the conversation as she could. "Raito is here. He gone to store, storage. He will be back a minute."

She looked unsure if she made sense, so L nodded in understanding to ease her. He wasn't fond of women, but this woman seemed to be a good person. Or he hoped she was. Either way, he felt the need to make an impression. It was rare for L to feel obliged to do so towards a woman, and he could only recall two women he'd ever shown respect for before – an American woman who'd done a lecture on the American Law system (Merry Kenwood? Mary Kenwood? Or was her second name Kainwood? It had been a few years, he could never ascertain her name) and a Japanese girl he'd met on an trip to Korea he'd accompanied his grandfather on, who beat him at chess three times out of three after he'd painstakingly taught her how through broken Japanese (something too embarassing for him to attempt again). Her name also tended to escape him, and he'd decided to refer to her as only as Naomi. This was only a first meeting with Mrs. Yagami though, and he decided to pass judgement on her at a later date.

L remembered the nasty, yet attractive eyes of the Yagami son, and felt a faint familiarity between him the the preteen. Sure, he didn't have the soft, pretty features, but there was that same spoilt fire in his face. This could've just been a simple coincedence, there was a chance that Raito Yagami was very much unlike him, but the flickers of affection remained.

As if his thoughts were broadcasted out to the whole area, at that moment, a loud click bouced from the garden door, and it swung open to reveal a small figure carrying three bottles of milk in his arms.

L felt almost instantly blown away.

The young boy's skin was slick with sweat, tanned, taut, the pure white of the milk contrasting against the darker tan of the boy's flesh. His features were just as delicate as his photo, only more highlighted when animated, and his chestnut bangs sweeped over his face, hanging over long eyelashes and paled lips. The boy spoke in an ordered voice as he entered the room, not noticing the presence of the visitor.

"_Gyuunyuun o motte imasu, kaa-sama..."_

It was a calm voice, and though L couldn't understand a word the preteen said, the boy's appearence had struck rather quickly at L, and even the bored tone sounded glorious. L's eyes looked the boy up and down fleetingly, admiring the way his beige shorts brushed up against his legs with every small movement the boy made, those legs themselves showing healthy muscles that were visible against the skin, with no visible fat on them, beyond the slight puppy fat that hung around the thighs and calves. The boy, L concluded through a haze, was rather lovely, if a little too obediant.

Their eyes met as Raito, the Yagami's oldest, placed the milk upon the kitchen counter. Neither of them looked away – one too taken aback, the other too curious – and the boy, Raito, said in well pronounced English, "Is this the visitor?"

Soichiro nodded to his son, and looked to L. "Speak of the devil. This is my son, Raito, also my oldest. He's very intelligent, very well spoken, as you can see. If you crave someone to talk to on your own level, Raito's your man."

The boy leaned against the counter, and frowned. "I don't think he'd keep up, Dad."

There were distant flutters of excitement in L. Such cheek! This boy, yes, definetely no mistaking it. He was similar to L, in almost every way L had expected. To talk that way to his father, of all people... yes, this Raito was spoilt, nicely spoilt.

Soichiro was obviously embarrassed by his son's disrespect. He turned to L, eager to mend the mistake his son had made. "I'm sorry, L, it's the village boys, they..."

But L interuppted, his eyes not taken off of Raito.

"I believe you must think high of yourself to talk down to me, of all people." L walked towards the boys, and bent down to his line of vision. "When I was your age, I was already taking University level degrees in mathematics, science and the arts. I'd graduated from Cambridge University before I'd even reached my sixteenth birthday." L smiled slightly, happy to be inspecting the younger boy's features from a closer vantage point. "If you believe that does not demand your respect, Raito, then I'm afraid life will be a rather hard battle for you."

The boy's face blanked in thought, and then cleared, his mind made up. "I will give you respect when I see proof of this, Mr. ...?"

"L Lawliet." L glanced at the boy's lips one last time before returning his gaze to meet the boy's eyes.

"Can I call you L?" The boy asked, tempted to bat his eyelashes in mock submittance, but stopping himself to avoid doubts of his own masculinity.

"I don't see why not."

"Very well. Call me Light."

The two of them seemed to swap shared looks of satisfaction as the awkward onlookers felt like they could breathe again.

XXX

Woooooooo, this was time consuming. I spent a whole day on it. Yes, I know I should be updating the Exchange, but I was ill today, and the influences _Lolita _and _Atonement_ have inflicted upon me were too strong to resist -_- Though they are seriously good books. And yes, I stole L's mother's name from _Lolita, _and I'm not too ashamed to admit that And I rather like the storyline I have with this, so I will be continuing it, whether anybody likes it or not.

Reviews are appreciated 3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **_It's the beginning of the summer 1931, and due to health depletion from stressful studying, Watari, the Dean of Cambridge University, worries about his sixteen year old grandson, L's, health, and sends him to the countryside to live with the family of his good friend Soichiro, the retired Japanese ex-policeman who came to spend the remainder of his life running a grocery shop in the village of Knaresborough, whilst raising his two children Light and Sayu alongside his loyal young wife Sachiko. However, upon arriving, Soichiro's twelve year old child, Light, takes an unhealthy shine to L. _

**Warnings: **_Shota, a bit of OOCness here and there, and it's an AU story._

XXX

Light Yagami liked experiments.

The variation of them intrigued him. You could conduct social experiments, scientific experiments, experimentation in cookery. It was the element of being able to try out new things that piqued his interest in them, due to the lack of experience he could claim beyond the small village he'd been living in for the last two years. He'd been told many things by the local village boys – the ones who didn't throw racist slurs at him. They'd told him of how adults work, of how the mind worked. Light Yagami doubted all these things that the less mature boys considered hard facts, save for one subject – sex.

Upon hearing the theories of the local children about sex, they could be considered the only things Light had taken to heart from them. There were many myths thrown around about girls, particularly. That they would bleed from every orifice in their body once a month – a fact Light _wasn't_ stupid enough to accept, thank you very much – that they used special medicine to make the men want to have a baby with them – another fact Light was dubious about. Then the older kids gave much more plausible explanations. They'd told the younger ones about things like pregnancy, and prostitution, which of course had always been interpreted incorrectly, but upon working out these myths for himself, Light had come to accept them. And the rumours all disgusted him, regardless of whether they were about girls, or boys, or small animals, whatever.

What really shook him was what his father called, "God's gift to Light for being alive for twelve years."

On Light's birthday, Soichiro had taken him aside and had explained that over the next couple of years, Light would go through some changes that were normal for all boys. When asked what these changes would be, his father replied in English, "We will cross that bridge when we get to it."

Two months after said talk, Light Yagami woke up with his first erection, and as a result, crumbled up into a ball and screamed in horror for ten minutes. His father had to slap him out of it before calmly explaining that he had nothing to worry about. That he'd received this, "God's gift to all men". It was utterly repulsive, and despite his father's claims, Light rejected sexual activities with every fibre of his being.

However, regardless of how disgusting he believed it to be, he was still very interested. In fact, it was probably his disgust for it that encouraged his curiosity about it. And Light was short of sources, it was a situation where the only option was to sacrifice himself for his own experiment. But, unfortunately, as Light found out, one cannot proceed to quench their thirst for knowledge about a social subject alone. Well, they can, but only so far. Somehow, he was willing to. But that test partner had to be special, they had to be someone he could trust with such an important, private matter.

He did not know when he would find this person, but he forced himself to believe that anyone could be an option.

XXX

That first dinner at the Yagami house was somewhat tepid for L. He had nothing against the food, or the dinner hosting. It was just having a child of such calibre sitting directly across from you can be challenging, especially when said child is staring you down, watching every slight movement and twitch, examining every facial feature. And because his attention was so focused on Light, the dinner itself was outshone by the son of it's host. Soichiro had made several attempts at making polite, uninterrupted conversation about Watari's wellbeing and L's work at Cambridge University, however, it would never hold, as L's mind seemed to be constantly elsewhere, and Light's love of proving his genius wasn't improving the situation.

"So, L, how _has_ your grandfather been?"

"... His hip isn't getting any better ..."

"..."

"..."

"... Is that all?"

"Hm? Oh, no, his arthritis is worsening, and he's already considering electing a new dean for the beginning of next year -"

"Will you be the next dean?"

"Light, don't interrupt -"

"No, it's okay, Mr Yagami." L faced the boy. "I'm afraid I lack the work experience to have claim to such a job."

"So you won't be the next dean?"

"To be frank, no."

"Well, that's boring. I thought you were supposed to be a genius?"

"Light!"

Soichiro's patience had worn down as the evening went on, and he spent a lot of his time telling Light to respect his elders, while Sayu and Sachiko seemed rather far away, uninvolved in everything. To L, every syllable of every interruption was extremely welcome, to hear the almost lyrical, smooth yet spiked tone unwind itself from Light's mouth, and L tapped his thumb against his plate when the boy talked, almost along to the rhythm of each letter, of every word that Light said. Of course, he was also fidgeting due to him having to sit in a proper sitting position as to cast a good impression. Well, it was partly due to his position. Partly.

And even when Light talked, and when he ate, the boy's eyes hardly left L's face.

After dinner, L asked to retire to his room to settle into his new sleeping space. It was a rather leisurely room – wood panelling along the walls, and a nice, spacious double bed. The wood flooring creaked a little, and the room itself was full of bookshelves which were stocked with old worn books, classical literature and non-fiction from about twenty years ago. L doubted he didn't know anything that was imprinted on their pages, but as he dropped his case against the creaking floor, he began to walk towards them, mildly interested. It was strange – some were dusty as if they hadn't been touched in centuries, but others looked as if they'd only just been binded. L frowned at this minor detail, wondering how exactly one would pull this off without even some fingerprints being left as a result. One book, L noticed, had cracks along the spine where it had been read so many times, the pages brown and weathered. He pulled it from the row, and brushed a finger over it, inspecting the contents – the title cooed, in a petit, curled font, _"A Part of Life"._ L raised an eyebrow, and opened the book again at a random page –

"... 12 years of age is commonly known as the average age where a young male undergoes the changes into an adult male..."

_Oh, _so it's one of _those _books.

"You can't be honestly serious," L muttered under his breath, observing the signs of near to constant use, "Who would read such a book so diligently –"

As L whispered to himself, there was a knocking on the door behind him, and Light entered slowly, his eyes casting themselves on L and, once again, refusing to look away. He was eating something – L could see it moving in Light's mouth, from side to side, and around, dear god, _stop looking! –_ and L decided to be as subtle as possible, by nodding in acknowledgement to the younger boy.

"How can I help you, Light?"

The boy didn't answer at first, and finally looked away for a few seconds, gazing around the room with it's dim light and recently-until-now uninhabited ambience.

"... My dad and me used to use this room as a study, even though it had a bed in it. It's strange that I won't be able to use it anymore, so I wanted to ask you if I could read here from time to time."

Light turned back to L, his chocolate eyes not hoping for a positive answer, but merely expecting the answer he wanted. Nearly demanding it. And L felt spoilt for choice – if he turned Light down, the boy would be annoyed and chances of them having a relationship where Light was comfortable around L would be harder to achieve, and something inside L really didn't want that. But it would be bliss to see the bratty anger in the boy's eyes, being denied what he wanted. That would be heavenly. Maybe the boy would wrinkle his nose in distaste? Or storm out of the room? Maybe have a tantrum?

L remembered, back when Aiber had denied L of things – which was rare – L had always pouted. It was something saved for Aiber's eyes only, and it made Aiber raise his eyebrows in a sarcastic, yet defeated manner, pulling a face that L liked. No, L loved it. It meant _fine, I'll let you win, but not yet_. _Show me you deserve to win first._

L closed his eyes and breathed out steadily, calming himself.

He smiled. "You may," he replied, "but only when I am also in the room."

An outwards sigh followed by a calm face - Light didn't seem satisfied, but complacent, for now. He raised an eyebrow at L. "Why do you have to be in the room? Have you got something to hide?"

L felt like acting wise. "We all have things we want to hide, Light." L looked away from Light's sharp eyes, and sat on the bed, running his fingers ever the leather of the suitcase and haphazardly wondering if it would be wise to unpack in front of the boy. Light seemed to be giving an effort to show interest, well, he was asking questions, he was making conversation. No doubt if anything relatively substantial to L's past was unearthed, Light was more than likely to take an interest, and the more incriminating said object was to L, the more cause of curiosity to Light. And L was in no mood to be conjuring up believable life stories for his personal belongings, so placing his things with no regard to their accordance would be a bad idea right now. L decided against it.

There was a short silence, broken when Light sighed loudly. It was an outwards sigh, tired sounding. "... How long are you staying here?"

L faced Light, feeling a bit fatigued himself. The tiredness in the sigh was obviously contagious. "Until my grandfather calls me back."

"Which will be?" L smiled at Light, looking to the side, then re-capturing Light's gaze.

"I only wish I knew."

The boy looked annoyed, and scrunched his face up momentarily to exhibit his dissatisfaction with L's answer. Light then looked to the side, avoiding L's gaze – he was obviously experiencing the old social dilemma of when having more than enough time to say things, but less than enough words to say. Ah, but his face was now turning to L, and his lips were about to move. He'd obviously found something worth saying.

"... So, who exactly are you?"

Like a thousand pins dropping onto a tiled floor, evil thoughts crashed and flooded into L's head. Oh, what stories he could make up to reply to that query! Or he could go all out and just tell every sordid detail. It was a part of L, that half-lust to want to see what the pain of everything around him falling apart would taste like. It was something that hinted at its existence in the furthermost corner of his mind, but was always shut up by good old better judgement. It was like the sudden want to throw a loved object out of a window, to see it be destroyed, to savour the bittersweet self-hate and regret, but you never did, because you liked that object, and you didn't want to do that, no you didn't. And at that moment, a part of L, a minute, minuscule part of him wanted to see Light's shocked expression at how simply _disgusting _it was, and it was bigger than usual because it was speaking to the part of him that made L feel breathless when he saw Light's body the first time, the round, tanned thighs and the flushed cheeks.

But to tell Light those things would be a stupid thing to do, and L was not stupid.

L thought for a moment, and then relayed his self-explanation with a rather relaxed tone. "I'm the grandson of the Dean of Cambridge University, and the first under-aged graduate of a University in the history of British education. I have no brothers or sisters, only an associate of my grandfather's who used to be my uncle and two cousins I keep a good distance from. I like sweets. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Light sat down next to L, obviously now on comfortable grounds for conversation. "Do you have a mum?"

L paused. How much did he want to tell the boy about her? No, wait, he could use this to his advantage. "Well, I don't really know her..." And now, to establish some, if faux, trust. L bent forward, leaning his hands on his knees and lowering his voice as if the walls themselves would shout any facts that had been hidden from the world. " ... Keep this a secret, but I don't like her. She doesn't like me either."

L cringed to himself at his out of character tone, but felt no regret when Light pushed L for details, his eyes, framed by lashes that would rival any given china doll's, widening in interest. "Okay..." He began, tone intrigued, "... why don't you like her?"

"Because she's never around. I don't need her, anyway, and she doesn't want me to know her that well either, to be honest."

Light nodded, apparently asking himself if it would be appropriate to keep on about it. He obviously thought it wasn't a good idea when he changed the subject. "... What sweets do you like?"

Ah, what an innocent question! L wasn't sure whether he was overjoyed because the question revolved around confectionaries or because of the purity of the question itself (and how ruinable it was). "Oh, I like all types. Chocolates, lollipops, cakes, bonbons, boiled sweets... I love them all. Except Manor cake, I don't care for the aftertaste."

Light's eyebrows raised about half a centimetre, as he perked up, and began digging in his pockets for something before pulling out a round penny sweet, in shiny gold wrapper, perfectly twisted at the ends, and presented it to L, all smiley, as if he was actually eager to please. L wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"Do you like these?"

L smiled back in accordance, trying to match Light's enthusiasm, but pretending to not expect the impending offer. "But of course."

Light offered the sweet in L's direction. "You can have this one, if you like," Light didn't stop talking as L accepted the sweet, rubbing the wrapper with his thumb, "I've got a whole jar in my room. They're the only ones I eat."

"Is that so?"

L pulled the caramel coloured sweet from it wrapper, and felt its soft, glazed surface lying underneath his digits, and he felt at the blunt edge of it. An evil being, seemingly intent on the demise of L, perhaps of L's own creation, seemed to latch onto his back and whisper a plan into his ear, a risky plan that wanted to take advantage of the innocence presented before it. And the subtle suggestion of this by his own thoughts, though at first ignored, was soon realised at an increasing rate, and it grew in his head, larger, faster and stronger, biting at L's conscience, muttering lust into his neck, and it crawled up his spine into his brain, where it sat and smacked L from the inside until he gave up to himself. The plan was short and sweet, and was completed as such. It promised the security of the maybe-lie: this will not happen again, or you might not have the chance to _make_ it happen again.

The penny sweet almost willed itself to leap from L's hand. It landed on the old floor with a ringing, sharp, clicking sound. Light and L viewed, with twinned surprise (regardless of it's genuienity), as it tumbled downwards, and shattered slightly against the oak floorboards. Within milliseconds, Light's eyes, those self-confident, prickling orbs, were upon L, and L's own eyes greeted Light's gaze, and L could hear the words fluttering from Light's mouth, the, 'shall', 'I', 'get', 'another', and 'one'. But they flew past L's ears, and all that was left between them, behind the facade of the dropped confectionary and the polite offer, was something a bit rawer, something that Light couldn't place, something rather foreign to him, and it danced in the air around L. He could feel it burn against his skin as L's skinny, or, for the more gentler mind, delicate fingers splayed outwards by command of his palm, and the thumb was placed on his neck, and then sentences were being formed by words that were being murmured.

"It would be easier for you to get another from your room for yourself. I'll just take this one."

And he could feel it, the animosity on his lips, the taste of a some indiscriminate, chalky sweet; all embed into one leaning motion that connected two faces, the fleeting breath against his chin that remained for half a second before becoming moist against his lips, before being almost completely absorbed by a soft surface meeting another. This advanced without warning, and there was a pulsing, warm... _thing_ that pushed against the top of his tongue, metallic and sugary, which spread and sucked, searching. It seemed to be a temperature high enough to shock Light, yet too gentle to challenge, and the sensation almost completely obliterated something in him, his body loosening without any sign of a thing to be relaxed about. Throbbing brushes against hidden places, then alas, the foreign explorer had found his gold, and it was pulled from its hiding place. Then, it pressed the sweet to his tongue, rubbing almost. Something vibrated against his lips with a hum, and nudged his head back, and he could feel the hot _thing_ in his mouth, lolling around, forcing his tongue back and entwining itself around the sweet, then moving away, satisfied with its treasure. The invading heat from his mouth's intruder left him all as quickly as it had infiltrated, and Light stood, dumbfounded, staring up at the strange older boy before him. It was as if he'd taken a dive off a very high diving board, and had finally surfaced.

L smiled with smoky, drooped eyes, and poked his tongue out in a friendly, playful manner, revealing the sugary, golden brown circle sitting on a bed of red taste buds. It was almost perverse. "This will do. Goodnight, Light."

And before Light was aware of his own surroundings, he discovered himself in the hallway, the door closed gently in front of his face, wondering what the hell had just happened.

XXX

The second chapter, and they've already kissed... I'm working fast on this one ._. Third chapter will be up sooner or later.

Reviews are very much appreciated


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